


A Gentleman and a Lover

by Lomonaaeren



Series: From Samhain to the Solstice 2019 [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Confident Harry Potter, Dubious Consent, Fluff, Getting Together, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Virgin Blaise Zabini, Virgin Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-22 12:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21302420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lomonaaeren/pseuds/Lomonaaeren
Summary: When someone sends Harry a cursed letter that is meant to make Harry fall in love with them, it catches Blaise in the curse. And Harry and Blaise don’t have to fall in love; they just have to have sex. Well, maybe “just” is an understatement…
Relationships: Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini
Series: From Samhain to the Solstice 2019 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1532687
Comments: 31
Kudos: 931





	A Gentleman and a Lover

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my “From Samhain to the Solstice” fics for this year. It’s for nia_kantorka’s request of Harry and Blaise being caught up in wild magic and needing to sleep with each other to work it out. This can be seen as dubious consent due to the nature of the magic at play.

****“I don’t know how you can be so calm about this, Potter.”

“I know,” Harry said gently, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off over his shoulders. He’d already removed his robes. Zabini was standing in the center of the room off the hospital wing where they were going to do this with his face averted. “But this isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Thanks ever so much.”

“Sorry, Zabini. You’ll have to live with being on my list of traumatic experiences beneath having a Dark Lord kill my parents and kill me and threaten me with a basilisk and be fastened to the back of our Defense professor’s head—”

“You mean those wild stories they tell about you are _true_?” Zabini turned part of the way towards him. Harry admired the shape of his face. He knew it was probably the magic hovering around them that made him feel this way, but honestly, he had thought about exploring his attraction to blokes for the past few months.

Not like _this, _but, well. Since the war, it took a lot more to rattle him.

“Yes, about the basilisk and the Defense professor,” Harry said, and started stripping off his boots, his socks, his trousers. Zabini stared openly at him for a moment, then spun to face the wall again. “No idea about the others. What sorts of wild stories are those?”

“That you can resist the Imperius Curse, and cast a Patronus that’s a stag, and sneak around the corridors under an Invisibility Cloak—”

Harry clucked his tongue as he slid the trousers down and paused with his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his pants. “The Invisibility Cloak one got out? No wonder there’s prefects waiting everywhere I go these days.” He shot Zabini a flirtatious look as Zabini peeked at him again. “And you should know that the one about the Patronus is true. I know you were in the stands when I cast that one in the Quidditch match that year.”

“I’m surprised you remember. I thought you never noticed me.” Zabini’s voice was faint. Harry followed the angle of his gaze and found it glued to the heavy line of Harry’s cock, resting against the cloth of his pants.

“I haven’t noticed you as much as I should in the past, maybe.” Harry ducked his head long enough to smile at Zabini. “But I don’t think I could _help _noticing you now.”

Zabini shuddered a little, maybe because the magic was pulling at both of them and making it uncomfortable for him to remain dressed. He gave a tiny groan as his fingers worked frantically at the buttons of his own shirt. “Swear to me that you won’t hurt me.”

“I swear that I won’t. If I cause you pain, just step back and say stop. And I will.”

*

The problem, Blaise reflected as he began shedding his clothes, was that he honestly didn’t know if he _could _stop once they started.

The magic was prodding and urging him, making his skin prickle and his mouth dry out every time he even _thought _of pausing. But more than that, he had felt himself stir and harden as he watched Potter shedding his clothes.

He had expected curses, both magical and not, when the magic had grabbed hold of both of them. Potter should have whinged that he was saving his virginity for his true love or something like that, and he should have declared that he would rather suffer the loss of his magic than sleep with an evil Slytherin.

Except he’d been _kind. _And he’d acted like it was his fault that someone had decided to send him a cursed love letter.

_It sort of was, _whispered a voice in the back of Blaise’s head as he dropped his shirt on the floor and went to work on his belt with hands that shook. _If he’d taken proper precautions, then you would never have been in this situation. _

But that was tantamount to saying that if the person who had written that letter had never sent it, they wouldn’t be here—true, but irrelevant. And Blaise had long since prided himself on being the sort of person who never wasted time on irrelevancies.

“God, you’re _fit._”

Potter’s voice was thick enough to make Blaise shudder. He glanced over his shoulder and found Potter staring at him with wide, appreciative eyes. He ran his eyes up and down Blaise’s back and hips, and shuddered in turn. His tongue darted out to lick his lips.

And it occurred to Blaise that he was standing in the middle of a room with the Boy-Who-Lived, and that there were dozens of people who would _kill_ to be here in his place.

That provided the final prod he needed to get past his own fear. Well, that, and the desire in Potter’s eyes.

_He’s a Gryffindor. He really would draw the line at hurting me._

Blaise turned, sliding his own pants and trousers down his legs in one smooth motion. He’d taken his boots off the minute they entered the room, not wanting to risk getting his clothes tangled around them and looking ridiculous. “Like what you see, then?” he whispered.

*

“You have no idea how much.” Harry’s voice was thick, but Blaise didn’t move away from him. He only gave him a slow smile that had a lot of sweetness in it.

Harry took a step forwards. The compulsion magic had returned, crackling over and under his skin like lightning. He held out his hand, palm up. Then he stopped moving.

He was absolutely sure that Blaise had to take the next step—literally.

Blaise stared at him, and Harry stared back. He found that his breathing had slowed and he was standing a lot like he had when he was trying to coax a thestral from the woods. Blaise licked his lips and eased a step closer, his own breath short.

“Whatever you want,” Harry said.

Blaise reached out abruptly and gripped Harry’s hand. Harry managed to hold still despite his intense urge to buck as the warmth coiled around his fingers and his wrist. Blaise did shiver, and then leaned in and kissed him, as urgent and clumsy and wonderful as the hand-clasp.

Harry made an approving noise in his throat as he curled his fingers up into Blaise’s springy dark hair. God, the _thickness _of it. It was a lot like the thickness he could feel prodding against his hip as Blaise leaned further and further into him, with something that might have been a moan bubbling over his lips.

“Where did you get to be such a good kisser, Potter?” Blaise stuttered the sentence out all at once and then dived back into the kiss before Harry could understand it, let alone give him an answer.

Harry folded his hands behind Blaise’s neck and kissed him more thoroughly, deeper, encouraged by the way Blaise swayed towards him. His mouth tasted like salt and warmth and something that stirred heavy delight in Harry’s belly. He angled his hips up and let his own hardness touch Blaise’s.

Blaise pulled away abruptly. Harry let him go, afraid that something had gone wrong, but Blaise was staring at him with desire-bright eyes.

“Do that again,” he said, so hoarse Harry barely heard him.

With a smile, Harry let their erections touch again. Blaise’s eyes clouded over and he tossed his head back, leaning for a second against the wall with his hips pumping.

Harry was enchanted enough to stand there and watch him, but Blaise opened one eye to stare at him a second later. “Why the hell are you still over _there, _Potter?” he snarled through what sounded like a block in his throat. “You think I want to do this by _myself_? Get over here and lend a hand!”

Harry was more than happy to do so.

*

Blaise’s eyes rolled back in his head when Potter’s hand curled around his penis, he was ashamed to admit.

But it was so good, the slight snag as Potter’s calluses from Quidditch caught at him, the warmth of his palm, his confidence as he curled his fingers in just the right way and held Blaise underneath the head.

Blaise took a quick breath and managed to gasp as he reached back, “I thought the magic was this urgent because we’re both virgins?”

Potter blinked and looked up from Blaise’s erection. “Yeah, it is.”

“But y-you’re—too confident—”

“I just think that we might as well enjoy this,” Potter murmured, and leaned in. His kiss was clumsy, but as he pulled and stroked, and his tongue smoothed its way down Blaise’s lips, Blaise found that he didn’t care.

He had to fumble to get hold of Potter’s erection; it wasn’t really the best angle. But once he had and Potter bucked in his hand, his eyes falling half-shut, then some confidence of his own came back to Blaise.

They were both young, neither of them was dating anyone else, they were both at least handsome. This could work out.

Potter opened his eyes completely and grinned at Blaise. “Race you?” he offered, and then used a subtle twist of his hand that Blaise wasn’t at all ready for.

Actually, Blaise would have preferred to take it slow, but he understood why Potter wanted to go fast. And maybe it would be best the first time. They wouldn’t be done with the magic then, or he didn’t understand the heat speaking under is skin.

Besides...

He gripped Potter and slid both hands slowly up his cock, and Potter gasped and thrust, then redirected his own attention to his hands.

Yeah, right now a Gryffindor-Slytherin competition sounded like an _excellent _idea.

*

Having someone touch him was nothing like Harry had imagined.

He had pictured sweet, and slow, and hesitant, and blushes on Ginny’s face as she touched him. That was why he’d actually suggested to Blaise that they go fast, at first. He wanted something different than what he thought his first time with Ginny would be like.

But it was roughness, and trembling in his legs, and a furious fight to keep his attention on stroking Blaise when he _also _wanted nothing so much as to thrust like a machine and howl like a werewolf. He cupped both hands, spat in them, and rubbed all the way up Blaise’s cock finally, then touched and pulled on his bollocks.

Blaise’s mouth drooped open. He stared at Harry with wide eyes. It was so entertaining that Harry grinned and tugged again, and Blaise let go of him to sag backwards. There wasn’t a wall behind them, however, so Harry spun awkwardly and made sure that he was able to cradle Blaise as they slid towards the floor.

Blaise opened his eyes once they were on the floor and blinked at him. Then he grinned. “Do that _again_, Potter,” he said, parting his legs.

Harry sniffed. “Not until you call me Harry.”

“Why should I? You’re—”

“The one who’s touching you right now and who can decide any second that he doesn’t want to touch you anymore,” Harry said sweetly.

Blaise laughed abruptly, a small sound that nevertheless made something in the center of Harry’s chest relax. He leaned further back and lifted his hips, and said, “Come on, _Harry_, finish what you started.”

Harry grinned. He supposed Blaise was somewhat getting used to this, and that that was a good thing. At the same time, he didn’t want Blaise to get _too _comfortable. So he knelt further down, and opened his mouth, and swallowed Blaise down.

It made him choke and cough, but he mastered the impulse to let Blaise go from his mouth when he looked up and saw the way his mouth and eyes were both widening again. Then Harry thought about all the fantasies he’d had of someone sucking _him _off, and got to work with his tongue.

*

Potter was _incredible._

Blaise found himself bracing his heels against the floor and thrusting up into Harry’s mouth, much more roughly than he’d expected he would. But Harry rode the motion, letting his mouth fall a little further open, and swallowing expertly around Blaise, using his hand to smooth wetness up his shaft as far as his balls.

Which he touched again, and Blaise writhed beneath him.

All thoughts of doing something reciprocal fled. He would do—everything would have to be _later. _Right now, nothing was real except the warmth and wetness of Potter’s mouth, and he thrust, and he thrust, and his balls swelled up, tight, and his knew something was coming but he didn’t manage to gabble to Potter—

He came. Pleasure swirled through him and drew _everything _out, including an undignified gabbling sound that Blaise was humiliated to make.

Potter, like a hero, swallowed _everything_. Oh, once Blaise thought he heard him choke, a little, but he didn’t fall back and start gagging or pawing at his mouth, so Blaise thought he had things well under control.

Then the moment was over, and Blaise lay there, panting, his body shaking in the aftermath of pleasure.

But his cock already tingling with the next demands of the curse.

Harry lay between his knees. He arched a smug eyebrow at Blaise and stretched in a way that said he was perfectly satisfied with himself and the world, and Blaise found it impossible to take his eyes from him. Then Harry sat back on his heels and reached for his cock, standing almost upright between his legs.

Blaise couldn’t allow _that_.

He pounced.

*

Harry hadn’t expected to find himself on his back underneath Blaise, his legs spread and Blaise crouching above him, his smile lazy and threatening, but he couldn’t say that he _minded, _exactly.

“You’ve done well by me,” Blaise purred at him. “You said that you would back off the minute I asked you to, and you’ve kept that promise.” He had reached down and was letting the backs of two fingers stray up Harry’s cock, which throbbed enough to nearly distract Harry from his words.

“But you _didn’t _ask me to back off.”

“Exactly. That’s what I mean by you keeping your promise.” Blaise sat back, but kept his distracting fingers in place. “If you come, do you think the curse is going to stop?”

Harry thought about it, focusing on the feeling of tingling magic under his skin. He shook his head. “I think all it’s going to do is give us a little more of a grace period.”

“Exactly. That means we should fuck.”

Harry caught his breath. It was what he had hoped for, without wanting to voice it even to himself. After all, they weren’t here of their own free will. Asking for more than Blaise was willing to offer would be stupid.

But now Blaise had offered it. The smile he was focusing on Harry, and the increasingly insistent pressure of his fingers, said he knew exactly what he was saying, more clearly than his words did.

“All right,” Harry whispered, and was _annoyed _to find out that he was whispering. Well, this was what he would have to put up with for right now. “Do you want to bottom, or do you want me to?”

Blaise’s eyes widened. “You would be willing to be on the bottom?”

Harry snorted. “I don’t think that you’re someone who wants to cause pain for the sake of it, and we’re both virgins. That means I get to choose.” He arched his back, bringing his cock closer to Blaise’s renewed erection, and making his breath come faster. _That _was fun. “Besides, I’ve heard this can be fairly pleasant, as long as the person on top goes slowly.”

“Who did you hear that from?”

“Oh, around.” Harry had to grin at the note of jealousy in Blaise’s voice. Truthfully, it was just from Seamus, who wasn’t always the best source of information, but Harry didn’t think this particular one was a lie. “Let’s see what we can find in the way of lube.”

*

In the end, they had to conjure some slick oil that Potter said should work well enough as lubrication, but Blaise didn’t think it mattered. He could barely look at the liquid Potter was rubbing between his fingers, anyway. He found it hard to look away from Potter’s face, and the way he smiled, and the gleam of his eyes.

Then Potter got on his knees in the middle of the bed and reached slick fingers back towards his arse.

“What are you doing?” Blaise asked, and humiliatingly, his voice squeaked.

Potter arched an eyebrow at him without stopping the busy movements of his fingers. “Preparing myself. I didn’t realize that you needed that much education in the context of—”

“I mean, I thought.” Blaise stopped and did his best to speak like the suave Slytherin Potter was probably expecting to top him. “The person who tops is supposed to be the one to prepare the bottom, I thought.”

“I mean, you could, if you want. I wouldn’t object. But I can do it.” Potter abruptly gasped and lurched forwards a little, his fingers working deep inside himself. Now that was the part of his body that Blaise couldn’t turn away from. “I’ve done it before.”

Blaise snapped his attention back to Potter’s pleased, flushed face. “I thought you were a virgin.”

“I am, as far as being with someone else goes.” Potter’s fingers slid back and forth, making a sound that sparked an arousal so deep in Blaise that he took several steps forwards without realizing it. “But I like to experiment with myself. What? You never have?”

Blaise swallowed. “I never realized that I found blokes interesting beyond a few glances until this curse hit.”

Potter gave him an intense, sympathetic glance. “Sorry. I’ve had some time to consider the idea.” And then he drove himself backwards suddenly and moaned, and Blaise reached out and touched his arm, because he _had _to.

“What was that?”

“Prostate. Feels…really good.” Potter’s words were slurring, his eyelids fluttering, and he fucked himself on his fingers until Blaise thought he would come right there. But Potter finally took his fingers out and turned around with a smile. “Do you want me to slick you up, or do you want to do it?”

“I’m going to do it,” Blaise said. His voice was hoarse. He hadn’t expected that. But Potter didn’t make smug sounds about it, just cocked his head to the side and waited. “If you touch me, I’ll—I won’t be able to do much more.”

Potter smiled and lay back, and somewhere between the time that he conjured more lube for Blaise’s hands and the time that he raised his legs to the level of his head and clasped the backs of his knees and looked at Blaise expectantly, he was Harry. He just was. Blaise couldn’t imagine trying to deny it, now.

He crawled onto the bed and stroked himself into wetness with light touches, because he was afraid that he might come from the sight in front of him. Harry seemed to understand, and grinned at him, his legs still firmly clasped.

“How the hell are you strong enough to do that?”

“Quidditch.”

Blaise rolled his eyes, but he was finally ready, and he eased forwards, and took over the task of holding Harry’s legs. Harry looked up at him with a trust that touched off another fire burning deep in his chest.

“Just take it slow at first,” Harry instructed quietly. “It’s going to be overwhelming for me, too, but slide in, and remember that unless I actually tell you to stop moving, you don’t need to.”

Blaise hated himself for biting his lip, but he nodded and did as Harry had told him. He had to go slowly anyway, because the heat clenched on him with a pressure that made him want to bleat or come or pull out. He halted several times, and Harry made soft, encouraging moans in response.

“_Stop_,” he snapped at one point, and Blaise did, his chest heaving. Harry writhed around for a second, his fingers digging into the sheets, panting, and then nodded. “Okay, go ahead.”

Blaise did, and then things changed, and the temptation to thrust fast and hard was there. Harry’s face smiling up at him made it worse, not better. But Harry reached a hand up and caressed his face, and the temptation faded.

“Yeah,” Harry finally gasped. “Good. There. Come on.”

Blaise did, and he could never remember the words that fell from his lips afterwards. They were nonsense, he knew that, and they were mingled with groans and grunts and empty promises. But Harry didn’t hold it against him. He moved beneath Blaise, back on Blaise, his eyes steady and his hands so full of a cradling power that Blaise knew, in the depths of his soul, what kind of power the person on the bottom could have if he needed it.

He fell through time and space and pleasure, and came back to himself in time to see Harry arch his back and begin to come.

Blaise deliberately bent close enough to share in that shuddering and wetness, and something else sparked in the back of his head.

Something hot. Something he hadn’t thought about.

But something that was going to come in useful when Harry returned to himself, which should be any minute now. Blaise lay down next to him and patiently waited for that to happen.

*

Harry drifted back to the surface on waves of a glorious haze. _Damn, _that had been good. He opened his eyes to find Blaise watching him as if he wanted to hunt down every expression on Harry’s face, and grinned. He knew without asking that they were free of the curse. The magic that had been sparking beneath his skin was quiet.

“Thanks,” Harry said.

Blaise stared at him. “What?”

“For being gentle.”

“You—you were the one who let me inside you.”

“Well, my stupid post is the reason we were in this situation to begin with.” Harry saw Blaise opening his mouth to argue, and rolled his eyes a little. “Oh, stop it. We can go on praising and blaming each other all day, but I’m much more interested in getting out of here and cleaning up and getting something to eat.”

“Right,” Blaise murmured after a minute. He rolled to the left, and Harry stretched, noting the interesting new aches in his body with a slight grimace. Then he sighed and shook his shoulders out, reaching for his wand to cast a few Cleaning Charms.

“Wonder what Ginny’s going to think when I tell her I like my arse pounded,” Harry muttered, turning to find what had become of his clothes.

“What makes you think that _she _gets a say?”

Harry blinked at Blaise, whose voice had gone surly for some reason. “Well, I mean, we’re not dating right now, but we did practically promise to come back to each other in a few months—”

Blaise crossed the distance between them with a few strides and kissed him. Harry gasped, first in surprise and then in enjoyment as Blaise’s tongue entwined with his. Harry blinked and stared at Blaise in the silence as Blaise pulled back from him, his chest heaving again and his hand firm on Harry’s shoulder.

“Um,” Harry said. “I suppose she doesn’t get a say? And that we never _actually _made a promise.” He felt inwardly smug. At least he was pretty damn sure Blaise didn’t want him for being the Boy-Who-Lived, and they’d never had an argument about him being left behind the way Harry had with Ginny.

“That’s right,” Blaise said, and kissed him more slowly and lingeringly. Harry raised his hands to touch his hair, and didn’t object when Blaise urged him gently back towards the bed.

All in all, Blaise was exactly as much of a gentleman as Harry liked. And it turned out Harry _was _interested in blokes. Pretty desperately, in fact.

And he could even keep the knowledge that he liked getting his arse pounded between just two people, which sounded pretty good to him. Especially when Blaise was more than ready to return the favor.

**The End. **


End file.
